Islanders (HitS)
by ForeverMATT
Summary: Mello and Matt, co-workers who hardly see eye to eye, find themselves stranded on a deserted island. Survival skills and hijinks abound.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Islanders (Head in the Sand)

**Summary:** Mello and Matt, co-workers who hardly see eye to eye, find themselves stranded on a deserted island. Survival skills and hijinks abound.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Death Note.

**Author's Note:** Lame humor and a theme that is so outdated, I don't believe there's another DN fic like it. Correct me if I'm wrong, I love a good ship-wreck story.

...

* * *

Play it up as any joyous tune, it wouldn't make a difference. Something had gone wrong. The ship rest in pieces here and there among the scraggle of rocks that lined the shore. There had only been two passengers on board, neither too experienced in the nautical venues, and so it was fated: an accident. A ship wreck. Nothing on scale with the Titanic, or any great ship notable in a history book, but it was to be the start of something big, that much was certain.

For the desk jockey who worked in Advertising. And for the co-worker that got by on dishing out orders and flaunting his role in the hierarchy that was...

Neither could have predicted this.

Disheveled, the two young men stared each other down. One practically seething with venom and the other just trying to get his bearings.

And the rage began... "You just HAD to take a fucking BOAT, didn't you?!" Mello shrieked angrily, pulling off a boot and pouring out an implausible amount of sea water.

Matt glared and spat at the ground before shrugging out of his soaked vest and dropping it carelessly to the sand. "First off, Mells, it's not just a boat; it's a pontoon. Second, this was _YOUR_ idea!"

"Why the fuck would I want anything to do with a fucking poontang?!" The blonde growled.

"_Pontoon_!" The redhead corrected. "Mells, it's a pontoon. Remember what you said at last year's company picnic? There was a lakeside view, and you said -and I quote(!)-_ 'This is nice, but it's too bad we couldn't go out on the water.'- _Those were YOUR words. And since we're going to be partnered and I had the cash to spare, I thought I'd make a peace offering, so I got you a damn trip out on the water!"

Scowling the blonde retaliated with a query of "How the fuck do you remember something like that from a whole year ago? You don't even get my coffee right!"

"Dammit, I've NEVER gotten you coffee!"

"See?! That's just how BAD of an intern you are! Can't even get me coffee!"

"Mello! I'm NOT an intern, you jackass! And, if I recall, you don't even like coffee!"

"...You know an awful lot about me, considering I've only known you for about a year."

"... We went to school together, college too. We've been working together for over two years. I'm the one who brings donuts every Friday."

"I thought Linda was the one who brought the donuts..."

"Linda's an intern who doesn't get _my _coffee right! And , no, she never brought donuts!"

"Don't be a bitch, Matthew."

"My name's Matt. And, we're supposed to be partners on the upcoming project. Didn't you pay attention during the last meeting?"

"I'm sorry, I don't listen to every word those cock-suckers say. I've got my own shit to worry about, y'know."

Matt sighed and decided not to further the aggravating conversation. Instead, he began to trek foward in favor of doing something -anthing- other than fueling the blonde's obnoxious behavior.

Crossing his arms childishly, Mello followed after, gritting his teeth and muttering "at least it's tropical, so we shouldn't freeze or anything. -But for the record, I consider this your fault, and I expect you to build a damn flat boat or something like they do in the movies."

At that, Matt balked. "Flat boat? -You mean, a _raft_?"

"Shut up and cut down a tree or something."

"With WHAT? Why don't I just go and get my imaginary chainsaw or machete that I just happen to carry everywhere with me!?" Matt huffed and ran a hand through his hair, twitching slightly when his fingers became entangled within the wet strands.

With limited conversation, the two began to explore the island; their feet sore, wet and waterlogged and pruning inside cold socks and constricting shoes. The sun was beating down; the temperature was nearing triple digits and it wasn't even noon.

"We need to secure a method of purifying water; then we need to build a shelter," the redhead stated, wiping sweat from his brow and squatting to examine something on the ground. He ran his fingers along the greying ground, hard and dry and blemished with rock.

"Since when are you such a survivalist, Matt? You work in advertising. I'm pretty sure all your work is done on computers. Or, do they just let you in the mail room and copy room?" When his words were ignored, Mello scoffed and allowed his gaze to fully take in their current location. Dirt, trees, grass, higher grass in the distance, and anonymous sounds stemming from various wildlife. "Think we're in Figi or Hawaii, or something?"

To this, the redhead gave answer. "Dunno. I don't have a map. And let the record show that I never said I was a survivalist. But, when I was a kid, my parents raised me to be prepared for just about anything. You'd be surprised what I know."

Gritting his teeth, heat getting to his head, Mello raised a fist in jest of a threat before defensively saying "my IQ's higher, dipshit. Tell me what the fuck you plan to do, and I'll do it better."

Denying the blonde repose once more, Matt crouched down and let his fingers touch the soil; his knuckles grazed the surface and filth collected in the grooves of his flesh and nails.

Mello mimicked his actions. "Playing in the dirt?" He raised a skeptical brow and bit back a scoff as he stood properly.

"No..." Matt sighed. "The soil is damp here. Last time I checked, the ground was dry and cracked. Damp soil could mean water. Water means we're less likely to dehydrate."

"Matt, if you're looking for water, we're probably on some kind of fucking island. Water's everywhere."

"Can't drink straight salt water. It's better to find another source, purify it, and then drink it. Unless you want to get sick and potentially catch a bacteria-induced virus."

"I liked you better as a nerdy little boy at a desk with Mario-themed pencil-toppers. This side of you pisses me off."

Mello's words caused a new reaction from the redhead. Memories stirred, of long school hours, passing notes, and a secret crush that he'd nearly forgotten. His brows furrowed and he looked at the blonde for a long hard minute, caught between speaking and biting the inside of his cheek. He settled for silence, deciding that finding a temporary fix to their predicament was more important than a past he hardly remembered.

Thankfully, the blonde seemed to agree. He wordlessly demonstrated by walking a short distance and grabbing a vine that had grown from a tree, coiled tightly around the trunk and drooped onto the ground. He tediously unwound it and kinked the vine, twisting until it broke off. "Cordage. Getting a few of these might be beneficial" he murmured.

Matt nodded but made no move to help. As the blonde set to work at collecting several dried vines, the redhead simply held his crouched position and kept a hand against the cool, moist dirt. He glanced around, noting the plant life. "Judging by the sun's position, those hills are North, behind us is South, and those are East and West," he pointed. "See those plants and the roughage around them? They look like Yellow Hibiscus, which require a significant amount of water to thrive. We can probably find a stream or alcove in that direction."

Mello coiled a collection of vines around his arms and spat to the side. "Whatever, nature-boy. We just need to get out of this heat. My hair's starting to frizz."

Hearing that, Matt just barely resisted the urge to chuckle, and the two of them set off in the direction of Matt's choosing.

After an immeasurable amount of time, the temperature seemed to skyrocket and the duo had to take a break. Breaking down and removing their button-up shirts, Mello dropped the vines and seated himself on a large rock while Matt leaned against a withering log.

Sweat poured down their bodies and their breaths were labored.

Catching his breath, the blonde caught himself stealing a glance at the panting redhead, the way his body was more defined than his clothing had previously suggested, and the way his chest heaved when he breathed. After a bit of staring, he realized something was amiss. "You okay, Matt?" he asked, voice a little hoarse from his throat being dry. "You don't look so good."

Matt didn't respond. He remained silent, resting heavily on the withered old log, head back, mouth opened wide as he gulped in humid air. His face was flushed and his muscles gave a spasm beneath his flesh.

"Shit, Matt, talk to me," Mello said, concern in his tone as he got up and approached the redhead. "Fuck, the heat's getting to you, isn't it?"

He received no answer.

"Matt, let's at least get you into the shade, okay?"

Still no response. Matt's eyes were squinted shut against the abrasive rays of sun, and his level of consciousness was becoming questionable.

Mello grabbed and slung the redhead's arm over his shoulder before proceeding to haul him over towards a shady thicket of trees and thorns. He used his own booted feet to smash down the offending brush and laid Matt down carefully.

Under the cover of trees, the sun wasn't quite as overbearing and a slight breeze made itself known.

Mello never cared much for outdoorsy things, but thinking back, he was a boy scout once. And, looking at Matt's condition that had so quickly began to decline, he could only hope that something he'd learned would come in handy.

Leaving the redhead for only a moment or two, Mello retrieved the vines and began to braid them together. Then, he took the braided vines and weaved them together, as if crafting a basket. Then he generously lined the interior with large thick leaves of plants that grew native to the island. The process was fairly quick, and then he took his craft and began to explore on his own.

Continuing in the direction Matt had pointed out earlier, he soon came to a large rock formation that dripped water from its jagged peaks. Almost barking a laugh at his find, he slipped the leaf-lined basket beneath a steady drip and began heading back towards Matt.

Ideally, the water could be safe enough to drink, and if he could get his dehydrated co-worker to a cool place with even a small water supply, the odds would be more in their favor.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **Islanders (Head in the Sand)

**Summary: **Mello and Matt, co-workers who hardly see eye to eye, find themselves stranded on a deserted island. Survival skills and hijinks abound.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own DN.

**Author's Note: **Short update. I'll try to make the next chapter longer.

...

* * *

Mello had Matt in the shade with a meek but necessary supply of water. Mello's blonde hair was tied back with a sturdy but pliable stalk of weed he'd found among the tall grass.

Hours seemed to pass; the sun was going down and an unpleasant coolness was beginning to stretch over the duo, causing either one to shiver. Not knowing what else to do, the blonde reluctantly laid next to the redhead and pulled him into his arms, immediately glad for his decision when he felt the shared body heat.

"What happens on the island, stays on the island," Mello whispered, resting his head and closing his eyes, only to flinch and swat at a hungry insect that had bitten his arm. Then he swatted an insect at his neck. And... the bugs just kept coming, and soon Mello had abandoned Matt's heat in favor of thrashing and scratching. "Fuck," he cursed, irritated and angry and more than a little tired and hungry.

Minutes later...

"Fucking bugs, can't eat me. Fuck, I'll eat you!" And Mello put his own hand in his mouth before gnawing, trying to bite the insect that had bitten him. He stopped only when the dim light of the hovering moon cast a shine over a set of green eyes that glimmered with an unreadable expression.

" Mello..." Matt addressed.

Mello promptly cut him off. "Shut up! Fuckin' bugs are eating me alive. Why aren't they eating you?!"

Matt shrugged. "Hey, be nice. I was just going to say that your hair looks nice like that. I like it."

Mello took a minute to stare at the redhead, attempting to gauge his sincerity. After a moment, he accepted the compliment and sat next to Matt. "I still don't get why the bugs aren't eating you," he grumbled. "Water?" he offered the makeshift pot.

Sitting up, Matt looked towards the odd little woven thing that adequately held the water Mello was referring to. "Nice," he said breathily, reaching for the pot and bringing it to his lips for a small sip. "We need fire," Matt added afterwards, pulling his knees up and wrapping his arms around himself for warmth. "Fire, and proper shelter." He looked around, noting their location as well as the position of the moon overhead. "We'll do it tomorrow. It's too late to do anything productive tonight."

Mello looked down and gritted his teeth. He knew they needed fire, but his two whole days of being a boyscout could only teach him so much. Taking a deep breath, he expelled it at leisure and gave a solitary nod. "Anything I can do to help?"

Matt looked at Mello with surprise, then smiled. "Hey, yeah. I could explain how to make a bow-drill so that we can start a fire, and then you can help me look for a good food source. Then, there's the aforementioned shelter we need... We could be here for a while."

Mello avoided Matt's gaze, unsure of what to make of their circumstantial comradery. "Well, nature-boy, is there anything we can do about the cold for now? What about the bugs?"

"Fire would ward off some bugs but attract others. I'd be mostly worried about spiders right now. As for heat, unless you want to share body heat, we'll just have to tough it out for tonight."

A silence fell over them after that, both cold, both hungry, and both tired.

As the moon found itself hazed in clouds and their light source became nil, Mello found it in him to break the silence.

"Matt, if you're cold, I guess you could sit a little closer to me. If you want to... maybe..." Receiving no answer, Mello listened carefully and detected steady breathing and a soft, barely-audible snore from his companion. "Fuck you, being able to sleep outside in the cold... with the bugs..." Mello spat to the side, irritated, before getting to his hands and knees and crawling toward the redhead. He laid next to Matt and let his eyes slip closed. "Bastard, with your ship-wrecked boat, and your magic bug-repelling body, and your-" the rest of his words rattled off with a yawn, and the blonde was finally able to fall asleep.

...

Morning came.

Matt had been up for hours. Sitting on the beach, stripped down to his boxers, he was content to watch the sunrise with a majestic beauty that he'd only ever seen on postcards and default desktop backgrounds. The way the colors bloomed across the sky and reflected in the warming water's surface, it was visual poetry at its best. And, sitting there with his toes buried in the sand, Matt didn't miss the sound of an alarm clock, the ticking of a clock, and the rush to get ready, the agony of traffic and the woes that came with being hard at work and undermined all the same.

Some small part of him felt free, like he could just be content here in his own personal oasis. His own private vacation.

Another part of him missed the convenience of microwaving the remains of last night's dinner, and he was grossly reminded of this as his stomach growled.

Sighing, he stole another long look at the display of colors before getting up and deciding to get something done.

After last night's cold, he was certain of the need for fire. To make a fire, he'd need to make a bow-drill. A bow-drill consisted of four parts: the bow, the hand-hold, the spindle (also known as the 'drill') and the fireboard.

He found a sturdy sapling just under 3 feet long, and he strung it with the cordage Mello had acquired the day before. Knowing that the cordage would snap under pressure, Matt first had taken liberty of stripping them at length and then braiding them together; this strengthened the cord pre-stringing. His bow completed with ease, he needed a spindle. He scavenged a simple branch and snapped off a 6 inch piece. Then, using a rock he'd found off the side of the beach, he gradually beat the ends down until they were carved to meet the criteria needed. He used cedar and basswood for the fireboard and hand-hold. Using the same rock as before, he carved a small divot in each.

Finally, his four pieces were done and he could test it out.

He placed his fireboard on the ground and held it with his left foot, kneeling with his right knee on the other side of the board. He wrapped the bow-string once around the spindle and placed the pointed end of the spindle into the divot made in the fireboard. Next, he capped the hand-hold on the top of the spindle, holding that with one hand and taking the bow in the other. Pressing firmly, he began to saw, the bow and string working the spindle back and forth, faster and faster as he pressed harder.

In time, a blackness began to form in the fireboard as the friction built heat and began to burn through the dry cedar. And, after seven or so more revs, it began to smoke. Seeing this as a victory, Matt quickly pulled the bow and drill away from the fireboard and snatched some dry weeds from nearby, nestling it together around the heated board and blowing softly, biting his lip nervously in those last few tell-tale seconds...

It was make-it-or-break-it. This either worked, or he'd have to start over. Still a little chilled from the night before, he prayed to whatever deity would listen, that this would work.

Then, just when he was about to give up, a small flame caught onto grass and weeds. Feeling the heat radiate from the small fire, Matt felt his chest tighten and a grin spread across his face. Getting up and running to grab dry logs and willow bark that lay nearby, he couldn't help yelling "Mello, come quick! We've made fire!" Too proud of himself for what he'd accomplished, he didn't bother to mend or re-think his sentence. Fire had been his own success, but he never had any problem sharing credit. And as far as he was concerned, they were in this mess together. Partners.

Tired and scratching at the red bumps from bug bites, Mello emerged from a distance and slowly stumbled over towards the redhead. Irritated and spiteful of mornings in general, he could easily think of a few choice words to throw at Matt, but one look at the smoke and fire, and those would-be nasty words were replaced by a bark of laughter. His vigor renewed, he raced over to help grab wood for the fire. "How the fuck did you do this, Matt?" Mello asked, dropping dried cedar over the burning embers and then reaching his hands over the heat, letting the warmth wash over his chilled form. "Fuck, I never thought fire could be so amazing."

Matt just stood back and grinned, glad to see the blonde in such good spirits, and... glad for the fire too. "Well, partner, what do you say to breakfast?"

Hearing that, Mello looked at Matt incredulously. "_Partner_? You may have given us fire, but let's not forget that it's _YOUR _fault we're here to begin with! You can call me partner when you do something useful other than correcting your own damn mistakes!"

With that, Mello stomped off angrily, walking alongside the beach and crying out when his bare foot was assaulted by the claw of a crab.

And Matt stood there watching, surprised and a little disappointed. "Someone's got a bee in their bonnet," Matt whispered under his breath. "S'gonna take more than fire to fix that, I guess." Taking a deep breath, Matt yelled "Hey Mells, get your foot off the crab! We can eat that!"

...

* * *

**/I kinda wanna have Matt woo Mello in this setting. Could be fun. /**


End file.
